The elf and the Bowman
by KuraiYuki-chan
Summary: Bard x Thranduil


A cold sun rose high above the city of dale two days after the battle of the five armies had ended. The last two days had been some of the most stressful of Bard's life. In the last two days he'd seen battle, and death, and destruction on a massive scale. Sure, he'd heard tale of the kind of horror war could bring but he'd bee utterly unprepared for the real thing. And he had witnesses the death's of so many people, both good and questionable who'd had their blood spilt across the icy stone as one and he'd almost seen his children, his dear, beloved children, join them. That realization frightened him more than anything. If his children were gone, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. Especially after he'd promised Amy on her deathbed after she'd given birth to Tilda that he would always protect them. Oh, how close he'd come to failing her! He shook his head in a futile attempt to dislodge his troubling thoughts and rose off his bed roll that he had layed across the floor alongside his children and many of the other survivors of both the dragon and the orcs. He glanced to where his children lay. Sigrid was curled around Tilda protectivly with both sets of blankets wrapped around them to block the cold that never really went away in this cold place. Too much stone, he thought, turning toward his other side where Bain should have been but blinked in surprise when he was not. He glanced around, half expecting him to still be in the building stuffed with people to try to keep as warm as possible, it was still early after all. The first wisps of sunlight were only barely making themselves seen above the far horizon, but he was not there.

He stood, pulling on his boots and his ragged worn old coat and headed out. The light dusting of snow crunched beneath his boots as he wandered down the alleyways and what had once been bustling roads and markets before the dragon came. He wasn't even sure where he was anymore just as he was beginning to grow worried he heard Bain's voice rise above the cracked pavement, still too far to hear what was said but he would know his boy's voice anywhere and he quickly followed, wrapping his coat tighter about himself. He could hear Bain clearer now and the pleading tone of his voice gave him pause as he strained his ears to listen.

"Please," Bain said, "Everyone is freezing and my sisters are cold, I fear they will fall ill without more coats and blankets but we have no more. I know it is not right of me to ask but . . . if you have anything to spare that may save us?"

"I will see what I can do." Came another familiar voice, icy as dale itself and smooth as silk, that made his heart beat faster though he knew not why. Thranduil, the king of Elves. It was then that he realized where he had come to. Thranduil's tent was just in the next street over and he wondered vaguely if he would ever know where these winding streets lead. And if Thranduil was so close then that means . . . he glanced up quickly, just in time to see a flutter of movement across the top of the building to his left though there was no sound. Elves, he thought with a flash of worry for his son and he paled. Would they be angry that he had come uninvited in the wee hours of the early morning and disturbed the elvenking? He hurried forward, rounding the corner to the wide path leading to Thranduil's tent.

A soft smooth laughter rose upon the snow like music and made the light fluttering in his chest that he always felt when speaking to the elvenking almost unbearable. It was a beautiful sound, graceful, and fit Thranduil perfectly. Exactly how he imagined the other's laugh to be, not that he'd spent a lot of exess time thinking on it but . . . well, he admitted, perhaps he had.

As he rounded the corner he saw Bain standing, faceing the elvenking in front of the tent who wore a silver robe that matched his flowing river of hair and a small smile graced his lips that lit up his face and the breath was momentarily knocked from my lungs. Bain smiled back and upon seeing me, gave a slight bow to the elvenking then trotted over to me. As we left the street to head back towards our temporary lodgings, I could feel a slight pinprick in the back of my head and knew without turning to look that Thranduil's eyes were trained on me with interest.

Whether it is a good interest or a bad one remains to be seen.

_**TBC**_


End file.
